Marine
by jonty2600
Summary: When Percy and Annabeth's son returns home from war, the only person his family and friend's see is a broken man. Can they help him overcome his PTSD or will the ghosts of his past forever haunt him.


**Disclaimer – I do not own Percy Jackson and the Olympians**

* * *

The drill instructor strode up and down the hall; his eyes displayed no ire, nor hostility towards his new recruits. His shaven scalp was concealed underneath a broad-brimmed campaign hat which cast a shadow over his recently shaven face.

"You are no longer black, or brown, or yellow or red! You are now green! You are light green or dark green! Do you understand?" the drill instructor bellowed.

The recruits responded to the drill instructor; each recruit was garbed in MARPAT uniforms, their heads shaven, granting them a high and tight hairstyle.

"Sir, yes, sir!" they yelled.

The drill instructor paused in front of a specific recruit; although his hair was cut short, he could still see traces of his flaxen hair. Sea green eyes were concentrating on the wall opposite, struggling to not look into the instructor's eyes.

"Jackson!" the drill instructor thundered.

The recruit stiffened, his eyes focusing on the instructor's face. The drill instructor was a 6'2 African-American with a permanent scowl and muscles like a body builder.

"Sir, yes, sir!" Logan replied.

"You the maggot whose great-grandfather served in Vietnam?" the drill instructor questioned.

"Sir, yes, sir!" Logan answered.

"Outstanding! Did he have the balls to die there?" the drill instructor asked.

"Sir, no, sir!" Logan replied.

"Shit that's unfortunate! He ever talk about it?" the drill instructor asked.

"Sir, I never met him, sir!" Logan replied.

"Too fucking bad!" the drill instructor concluded.

Unexpectedly, the drill instructor stopped. He bent forward, annoyance carved on his face.

"Are you eyeballing me with those baby blues? Are you?" the drill instructor roared.

"Sir, no, sir!" Logan replied.

"Are you in love with me, Jackson?" the drill instructor asked.

"Sir, no, sir!" Logan replied.

"You don't think I look good in my uniform, Jackson?" the drill instructor asked.

"Sir, the drill instructor looks fabulous in his uniform, sir!" Logan replied.

"So you're gay, then, and you love me, huh?" the drill instructor asked.

"Sir, I'm not gay, sir!" Logan replied.

"Do you have a girlfriend, Jackson?" the drill instructor asked.

"Sir, yes, sir!" Logan replied.

"Guess again, motherfucker! Jody's banging her right now! Get on your face and give me twenty five for every time she gets fucked this month. Down on your face!" the drill instructor commanded.

Whilst Logan performed his push-ups, he thought back to his life before he had enrolled in the Marines. He was the eldest of three children; he had a younger sister Alexandra, and a younger brother Jason. His parents were demigods, his father a son of Poseidon, and his mother a daughter of Athena. His parent's friends always said his personality was similar to his mother's, very caring yet harsh and judgemental. Although, everyone seems to agree he gets his short-temper and intelligence from his father.

* * *

"What in the fuck is this?" the drill instructor snarled, disbelief evident in his voice.

The drill instructor and Logan were standing in front of a whiteboard, the latter having been ordered to draw and outline everything which was to be packed in a recruit's footlocker. The diagram was difficult to comprehend, whilst his writing was either incorrect or smudged.

"Sir, it's a recruit's drawing of a footlocker, sir!" Logan replied.

"Jesus, Joseph and doggie-style Mary! That is a pile of dog shit" the drill instructor shouted.

"Sir, the recruit's never been good at drawing, sir!" Logan declared anxiously.

"Why the fuck are you my scribe, then? Isn't my scribe supposed to know how to draw?" the drill instructor barked, his anger ever so slightly increasing.

"Sir, the recruit doesn't know! The recruit thought the scribe was supposed to write, sir!" Logan nervously replied.

The drill instructor swiftly brought his hand to Logan's throat and began to suffocate him. Logan slowly knelt down as he clutched the instructor's hand in an attempt to get him to release his grip.

"Of course the recruit doesn't know! The recruit doesn't know because I haven't told him!" the drill instructor growled.

The drill instructor released his grip and began to slap Logan on the back of his head.

"All right, cum-for-brains, show me exactly where your Skivvies and running shoes go" the drill instructor commanded.

Logan's eyes were firmly shut as he struggled to think what to do next.

"Sir, the recruit can't think while the drill instructor is hitting him on his head, sir!" Logan mouthed.

"You can't think while I'm giving you a few love taps? How the fuck are you going to fire your rifle, when grenades are going off in your face? What the fuck are you even doing here?" the drill instructor muttered.

Enraged, Logan quickly turned towards the drill instructor and screamed at him.

"Sir, I got lost on the way to college, sir!"

Abruptly, the drill instructor seized the back of Logan's head and thrust forced it into the whiteboard.

* * *

He was a Marine, it didn't matter who his parents or grandparents were; the way he thought, the clothes he wore, everything had to change. His hands were dick skinners, a flashlight was a moonbeam, a pen was an ink stick, his mouth was a cum receptacle, a bed was a rack, a wall was a bulkhead, a shirt was a blouse. A tie was still a tie, and a belt a belt. But many other things would never be the same.

As he stared into his family's eyes as he stood with his new brother's and sister's, he witnessed dissimilar reactions. His grandparents, siblings and sweetheart were congratulatory, he could see they were proud that he was doing something admirable but that didn't mean his parents were the same. They showed only nervousness and dissatisfaction. A reaction which would only worsen when he would come home, after the third world war was won, it wouldn't be Logan coming home; instead it would be a broken man.


End file.
